


Possessive

by AbigailKinney4life



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Breeding, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Riding, Rough Sex, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbigailKinney4life/pseuds/AbigailKinney4life
Summary: The witcher comes in his bard.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 771
Collections: Thirsty for Geraskier





	Possessive

**Author's Note:**

> Pure filth, please enjoy :)

Jaskier stood in the centre of the room, Geralt behind him, the witcher’s hands grasping his hips and holding Jaskier tight against his front. Geralt’s hips dwarfed the bard’s own as he ploughed forward again and again, burying his cock in Jaskier’s body with sharp, tight, ceaseless thrusts the force of which would have sent Jaskier to his knees had Geralt’s strong fingers not been denting his narrow hipbones; holding him steady and forcing his body to accept the deep thrusts of his hard cock.

Jaskier was shaking, a litany of quiet gasps escaping his mouth as his back was held against Geralt’s chest. Each forward thrust of the witcher’s hips and each pull back of his grasping hands kept Jaskier impaled on his stiff cock, so deep inside him that with each jerk forward Jaskier could see the pale plane of his stomach mould around Geralt’s cockhead as it speared through him, rubbed against his prostate and stimulated him unrelentingly.

Low growls fell from Geralt’s lips. The lines of his sweat-slicked stomach slid hot and hard against Jaskier’s back. Jaskier couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine his clenched jaw, his eyes fire as he fucked him; pouring his lust, his rage, his animalistic desire into each punishing thrust.

Jaskier braced his hands on his thighs, allowing his body to fall forward, to accept more of Geralt’s stiff cock into his body. His eyes rolled back into his head as his witcher bottomed out immediately. He barely gave him time to accommodate to the new stretch before Geralt was pushing back in again, dragging Jaskier’s hips back until his cheeks collided with Geralt’s sharp hipbones over and over and _over_ , _fucking_ Jaskier back onto his cock – using his body, taking exactly what he wanted from him.

Fuck, Jaskier felt like Geralt wasn’t even fucking him, instead he was using his body as a masturbation aid, a warm sheath for his cock, a receptacle to shoot his come into. The fact that Jaskier’s legs were shaking, his groin was on fire with pleasure and so full of Geralt was nothing more than an accident.

Just the thought stiffened his cock and Jaskier couldn’t help wrapping a hand around himself, tugging on his sopping cockhead, spreading his precome over himself as makeshift lubricant as he drove his hips back, as he felt Geralt’s sharp thrusts inside him. The pressure in his ass was never-ceasing, eternally stimulating, building, building –

Geralt growled loudly and thrust aggressively, _slamming_ Jaskier down on his cock. A loud moan escaped the bard, forced from him, his hands scrabbled, legs closing around the thick shaft spearing him open.

The thrusts stopped.

Jaskier shook, his head swam, his eyes darted – body responding sluggishly as if waking from a deep sleep with no clue what was happening. He tried to talk, to question, but could summon no words.

“Am I hurting you?” Geralt asked breathlessly into his neck, concern in his voice.

“No, no, no-“ Jaskier babbled, shoving his hips backwards. He felt Geralt inside him, sinking deeper and his eyes fluttered, he sighed – “no you’re not, please don’t stop.”

“Jaskier, be honest, am I…”

“Geralt, _please fuck me_ , I’m going to come.”

He was going to cry, he knew it, he needed to be ploughed. Used. _Fucked_. He needed – he felt the slow, heavy drag of Geralt’s cock pulling from him, then thrusting back in and it was like a lifeline. He parted his legs, stood astride Geralt’s legs behind him, ground his ass down, feeling the pressure, the fullness, of that thick shaft against his hole, hitting that spot, and he _bounced_.

“No, no, harder, like before, please-“

Geralt took pity on him. He groaned at the tight, sucking heat around him, copulating with him. He tightened his grasp on Jaskier’s splayed hips, pulling him back, thrusting forward, meeting him in the middle – thrusts so hard, so deep they shook Jaskier’s frame, remaking him-

A strangled, ruined sound fell from Jaskier’s open mouth, followed by a stream of spittle that jiggled with the tremor Geralt’s cock sent through his body. His fist tightened around his own cockhead, weeping, heated, as milky seed shot from his slit and painted the floor with his bodily fluids.

His thighs strained, close to collapse, as Geralt slowed within him before the hands on his hips were gentle, the rigid length within him pulled steadily from his body. Jaskier’s orgasm-loosened asshole tried to clench, to keep his lover buried inside him, but he could not before he was empty and gaping.

His hand was still on his cock, short, light strokes that sent sparks of muted pleasure through him. Geralt’s hands did not leave his hips and he was glad, for he feared he would topple without the support.

“Was that good?” His witcher muttered, biting his ear playfully, a predatory smile in his words as his hands moved and wrapped around Jaskier’s chest, holding them close together.

“Mmm.” Jaskier smiled, breathless and exulted, as he let his head tip back against Geralt’s collarbone. He felt the witcher’s light hair tickle the sensitive flesh of his neck. “You didn’t finish.”

“That’s alright.” Geralt’s voice was low, accepting and not disappointed. It broke Jaskier’s heart. He was not in the way of broken hearts.

He stepped away, turned on his feet and his hand found Geralt’s before he was drawing the witcher forward. Geralt, sweat-soaked, breathless, beautiful, followed without question.

Jaskier manoeuvred him to sit. Geralt’s cock, huge, erect and wanting, stood proud and firm against his chest before Jaskier was straddling his hips and lowering himself down. Jaskier felt Geralt enter him, press up inside him as he sat down and his eyes closed as his asshole swallowed his witcher’s cock, feeling safe and home and _oh so good_.

“Jaskier, you don’t have to do that.” Geralt was saying, but his hands were on Jaskier’s waist, his hips canting up in shallow, chasing thrusts.

Jaskier swatted his arm dismissively, before resting his fingers around Geralt’s neck, holding his shoulders, and his gaze, as he lifted his hips and dropped them, rubbing Geralt’s cock against his prostate. Jaskier used his body as leverage to move himself, to couple them, to service himself on Geralt’s cock.

The witcher moaned gutturally, hips jerking upwards, hands running over Jaskier’s back as Jaskier threw his head back, soft sighs escaping his lips. “Oh, Geralt,” he moaned gently, “you’re going to make me come again.”

A hand was in his hair, a sharp, painful tug forced his gaze back to Geralt’s. Those golden eyes were dilated, mouth bared into a snarl as he said, _commanded_ : “kiss me.”

Jaskier’s hands travelled along pale, scarred flesh and cupped the witcher’s strong jaw as their lips tangled together and Geralt sunk his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth and Jaskier moaned around it. His pleasured mewls muffled as Geralt fucked his mouth and his ass simultaneously. Then his head was dragged back again, hair strands ripped out by the follicles, sending shivers of pain down his neck, his spine and into his cock which spewed a glob of iridescent precome onto the witcher’s abdomen.

“I want to see your face when I come in you.” Geralt said.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Jaskier’s neck bowed, his head fell back, supported only by the hand in his hair as Geralt’s cock fucked him harder, faster, deeper, driving all sense out of his body as thick, hot rivulets of seed emptied into him. He squelched around Geralt’s cock. His knees gave out and he collapsed down, impaling himself on the pulsing, spewing shaft buried in him. His hole slipped around Geralt, drenched and malleable and used, and his head bowed against Geralt’s shoulder as his thighs shook.

He barely even moved when Geralt’s fist tightened around his cock, and two or three swift, unforgiving jerks was all it took before he was spilling again into Geralt’s fist.

Geralt’s hand was on his chin, lifting his face up and cupping Jaskier’s cheeks with his come-soaked fingers. Jaskier’s tongue flicked out and ran along Geralt’s finger, lapping at his own seed.

Geralt laughed, shook his head, and kissed him – long and sweet and perfect.

The end


End file.
